Kapang! Kapang!
by HazyEpiphany
Summary: Calvin wanted to serve his country. While in Afghanistan, he is declared MIA. Calvin tries to get home but his injuries hold him back, and before long, comes to love the people who rescued him.


A/N: The response to my first story was… disappointing but not unexpected. I got some views from China and Russia which _was_ unexpected. Constructive criticism is very much appreciated as are all reviews in general. Also, I gave Susie Derkins a new surname to help with my allusions. There will be a logical explaination to this in an upcoming story that I've already written.

Disclaimer: I don't own Calvin & Hobbes or any other things I allude to nor do I get money through this.

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><p><strong>Kapang! Kapang!<strong>

Captain Robin was riding to Ghanzi when the jeep in front of him exploded in a fiery inferno. Acting quickly, he shouted, "Go! Go! Go!" to his men and leaped out into the open with his weapon ready. He heard the cries of his men as bullets rained down on them. He turned and saw that most of his soldiers were on the ground. Dead or dying. Moaning, bleeding out, crying for their mothers. He saw another of his men firing bravely at the enemy. He saw that man's head jerk suddenly back as blood sprayed from a hole in his throat. He saw the light of life leave the man's eyes. And he saw himself go berserk in righteous anger. Snarling, he spat a stringy glob of phlegm on the dusty road and sprayed bullets toward the source of the fire, killing many of the enemy. Then he saw a machine gunner emerge from the hill and take aim at one of his remaining men.

"Not on my watch," he growled to himself. Knowing it was too late to get the soldier to safety, he flung himself in the path of the bullets. "Run! Get to safety, soldier!" He ordered. He felt the strength drain from his body and coughed blood. "Spaceman Spiff has been eliminated by evil Zargs," he murmured to himself with a bloody grin. Then it was dark.

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Calvin Robin had always wanted to be an architect. To build. To create. This, he had thought, was what it must feel like to be a god. But his family, being as poor as it was, could not afford to send him to college. Calvin's only option was a school like West Point. If he could make it in, he would have a free tuition in exchange for service in the military. Which he was perfectly fine with! He believed in America. If he died to protect his nation, he would. Of course, like most people, he hoped he didn't die. He wanted to build. Not destroy. If he didn't die for his country, he would become an architect.

By some miracle, Calvin was accepted. He attended West Point, completed college, and began his military service. He moved quickly through the ranks; many of his superiors were impressed by his discipline, strong character, and quick thinking, and he soon became a captain. Then, he and his platoon were deployed in Afghanistan. He remembered the heated arguments he had had with his father. His father hadn't wanted him to go. Calvin had to go. He _wanted _to go. He wanted to serve, and he wanted to protect.

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Calvin woke up groggily. He was indoors and it was dark. The only light come through a small window and an open door. Where was he? He tried to sit up, but pain shot up his side.

"Easy, easy." A gentle voice said in heavily accented English. "You were shot multiple times in the torso with a large caliber gun. Most likely a machine gun.

"Urgh…" Calvin groaned. "Where am I?"

"You're in the village of Ghanzi." The voice came from a middle-aged man with a long, course beard and coke bottle glasses. "We heard gunfire and went down to provide help after the terrorists had left."

"Thanks," Calvin tried to smile, but it hurt to even do _that_. "What can I do to repay you?"

"We are not a people who think only of ourselves," the man responded with a genial smile, "We will care for your injuries and you can leave whenever you like."

"Well, thanks again," Calvin nodded gratefully, "But I still you owe you."

"Nonsense!" The man cried, waving his hands in the air, "You owe us nothing!"

"When I get better, I'm going to help around the village." Calvin said steadily. "Oh, and by the way, I never caught your name. What was it?"

"They call me 'Daktar.' It's a bad pronounciation of "Doctor." Daktar smiled. "You really should rest now." With that, he turned and left Calvin to sleep.

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In six weeks, Calvin had recovered enough to help around the village. He was good with the children–They were fascinated with his exotic hair, and they loved his playfullness. He was always willing to stop and help, and, before long, had won the hearts of everyone in the village. He knew that he would eventually have to return home, but for now, the village was his home. He figured that when he made a full recovery, he would leave. But not before then. He was content here.

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Several weeks later, disaster struck. He had been running with one of the girls to bring water from the well when he dropped the clay jar and collapsed. The girl, when seeing Calvin's frantic attempts to speak, immediately rushed toward the village, leaving her own jar of water behind. Within minutes, one of the village's dusty pickup trucks pulled up. Calvin's chest was heaving as he struggled for air. With enormous effort, he managed to gasp, "Can't… breathe…"

Daktar immediately leapt from the truck and bodily lifted him into the back. "I'm taking you to the nearest hospital. I don't think my skills can help you with this." He maneuvered the vehicle to the road, then tore off to the city, his face white in terror, and his lips moving in a silent prayer.

When they finally arrived at the hospital, they saw Red Cross vehicles everywhere with workers rushing busily around, tending to the wounded. "There must have been a major skirmish here if the Red Cross is in these parts," Daktar remarked grimly.

A harried looking relief worker bustled up to the truck. "Do you need help?" She asked helpfully.

"My friend here collapsed and is having trouble breathing." Daktar answered.

Without a blink, the worker was grabbing Calvin's arms firmly but gently. "Grab his feet," she ordered. Daktar lifted his feet, and the worker wove through the maze of bodies until she reached an open patch of ground.

Turning to Calvin, she asked, "Where does it–Calvin? Calvin Robin? Is it really you?"

Calvin opened one eye. Then his pained expression morphed into one of surprise. "Susie?" His eyes were wide with astonishment.

"I thought you were dead, moron!" She cried joyfully.

"I thought you were in Harvard or something learning to be a doctor!" He shot back good-naturedly.

"Um," Daktar interrupted, "This is quite nice and all, but we have more pressing matters."

"Of course," Susie nodded. "She knelt over Calvin, listening to his heart, and Calvin couldn't take his eyes off of her. '_Wow, she looks great.'_ He thought to himself.

He was pulled from his musings with a start when he was prodded on the shoulder and a worried voice asked, "Where does it hurt?" Realizing Susie had been trying to get his attention, he hastily pointed to the area on his chest opposite his heart.

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An hour later, Susie plunked the last miniscule shard of metal on the ground. "You must have overlooked this when you took care of him," she informed Daktar. "This bullet shard had stayed in Calvin's chest for weeks when his exertions had caused it to migrate inwards, collapsing his right lung. It's extremely fortunate that you were so quick in bringing him in, or he would permanently lost his lung. As it is, Calvin still needs to be flown in for medical attention in a better hospital."

Calvin spent a couple months in a hospital in Chicago before he was released. Those weeks were the best in his life. His parents had visited him. His mom had been unable to speak; her joy was too great and her sobs of relief had permeated the room even when she had left to calm down. His father had only smiled. Calvin had never seen him so happy.

In response to his son's nod of greeting, Christopher had reached in his jacket and brought out a present. "Your tiger comforted me when… well, when I thought I'd never see you again." He said as he lay Hobbes on Calvin's pillow. He wiped away a tear and sniffed.

"Thanks," Calvin had smiled.

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Calvin was ecstatic the day he was released. Being in a hospital was so boring. All he had been able to do was read books and watch television. It was like being in an extremely nice prison.

Susie Pavinski was waiting outside for him. "Hey," she greeted him with a smile. "Need a ride, hero?"

Calvin broke into a huge grin. "Sure! Can you take me to my house?"

Susie nodded and motioned to her care. "While you were out, all the troops were sent home. Looks like we're out of a job!'

Calvin just laughed.

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><p>AN: Susie's name was changed from Susie Derkins to Susie Pavinski. If you figured out who I'm referring to, good for you! But here's a hint: She likes archery.

Calvin was born in November 1985 and this story is set in early 2011, which means he's twenty-five, almost twenty-six.

Please review if you liked it and stay tuned for further stories! R&R!


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